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Alice: Alan. Shhhh, baby, it was just a nightmare.
Wake: Alice…
Hartman: There you go, Alan.
Wake: Hartman? I fell…?
Hartman: I had to give you a sedative, don’t fight it. You went through another rough period.
Wake: What?
Hartman: Right now it’s very important that you stay calm. We don’t want you to have another episode. You’re a patient at my clinic, have been for a while now. The shock of your wife’s death triggered a mental illness.
Wake: No, you—you… lying.
Hartman: You’re suffering from various symptoms of undifferentiated schizophrenia.
Wake: Bastard… K-kill you.
Hartman: It’s okay, Alan. Just let go.
Wake (V.O.): I felt groggy. Whatever Hartman had pumped in me was making me numb. I felt like this was happening to someone else, someone I was watching on television. I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. The door was locked. I was a prisoner here.
Hartman: Good evening, Alan. Are we feeling better now, feeling calm?
Wake: Yeah, I see you brought your pet gorilla with you, so sure, I’m calm. I get the message, loud and clear.
Hartman: Quite right, that’s the spirit. You’re being very brave, Alan. I understand you’re confused. I would be more concerned if you weren’t suspicious of me. I don’t blame you for it.
Wake: Big of you.
Hartman: Now, why don’t you come with me? We’ll reacquaint you with my clinic and go over everything you might’ve forgotten. A little walk and some fresh air? Yes? It will do you good.
Hartman: This corridor is for patients. Most of them aren’t here right now; Jack took them out for a fishing trip… except for the ones who are particularly vulnerable, of course. I encourage creativity as a part of the recovery process here at Cauldron Lake Lodge. I specialize in treating artists.
Wake: I bet you do.
Hartman: Splendid, Alan. I honestly believe we can get this thing under control if we work together. This way, Alan.
Hartman: Now, Alan, from past experience with you I know I need to get right into the heart of the matter as quickly as I can after an episode, so I’m just going to say this: Alice is dead. You’re in a very vulnerable state until you understand and accept this. Alice drowned. And you couldn’t face that. You’re suffering from hallucinations, paranoid delusions, unusual thinking, an obsession about light and darkness—a feeling that everything revolves around you, your thoughts and dreams. Your mind has constructed an elaborate fantasy scenario in which your writings are affecting reality. She has been kidnapped and supernatural forces of darkness are trying to stop you. We go this way, Alan.
Wake (V.O.): I wasn’t ready for another shot, so I went along with it. He had to be lying. But under the influence of the drug he had given me, I had to fight not to believe his words.
Hartman: It’s all in your head. You’ve been making it up. Apart from the tragic accident with your wife, no one has been killed. Your delusions are just a manifestation of your subconscious mind trying to protect you from the too-painful truth. Unless we fight the fantasy, it will return. I know the instinct is to resist me, but think about it: doesn’t this make far more sense than the insane supernatural conspiracy you have concocted in your mind? You’re a skeptic by nature, Alan, we both know this. Everything can be explained logically.
Hartman: I never get tired of this view! Very inspiring, isn’t it? Cauldron Lake spread below us. I could see Mirror Peak on the other side of the lake. I thought I could make out the spot where Diver’s Isle had been when I arrived with Alice. Now there was nothing but waves. It seems there’s a storm coming. Funny, I don’t recall there being a mention of that in the weather forecast. Well, no matter. This way, follow me.
Hartman: Alan, what I’m telling you is good news. Right now we’re in control. Every time you have a relapse, it gets more and more difficult to resurface from the dark depths of your imagination—not surprising, considering your profession; imagination is what you work with. After all your nightmares this should come as an immense relief to you. If it doesn’t, why is that? Because I’m lying—or because you don’t want to admit that you’re not well? It’s very natural for you to think of me as your enemy. It’s part of the illness. After all, I’m the one trying to bring you out of the world you’ve constructed for yourself. But I can’t do it by myself, Alan. You need to work with me. Once you accept that, we can begin the journey towards your recovery.
Wake (V.O.): I let him talk. Hartman obviously loved his own voice. His words echoed madly inside my head. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands to stay focused.
Hartman: Come along, let’s go inside.
Hartman: Here’s the entrance to the office wing. That’s for staff only. You were impressed by my trophies when you first arrived here. I do love to hunt. The great outdoors, man versus nature—it’s wonderful stuff!
Wake: Pretty damn wonderful, yeah.
Emerson: Scary, scary, scary. Raaaaaaahhh.
Hartman: Emerson.
Emerson: I’m a real bad dream, mister. You should be afraid of me. Don’t want to run into me in the night, that’s for sure.
Hartman: Please, Emerson, Mr. Wake is confused enough as it is.
Emerson: Yeah, you’d like me to go away so you won’t be scared. But you can’t just decide what kind of dream you have or when you have it!
Hartman: Emerson!
Emerson: Okay! Okay, sorry, sorry, sorry. Boo.
Hartman: That’s Emerson. We’re actually making some progress with him, I’m happy to say. He works on… video games. It’s trash, of course. But it does involve some small creative effort, which makes him receptive to my therapeutic methods.
Wake: No kidding.
Hartman: Now, you might have noticed the typewriter in your room. You’ve been writing as a part of the therapy. As soon as you feel up to it, you should continue.
Odin: My rheumatism’s killing me. There’s a storm coming. Oh, what a storm.
Tor: I hope it wipes this place off the face of the Earth.
Hartman: And these two are the Anderson brothers, Odin and Tor. They had a—how should I put this, a heavy metal band in the seventies and eighties, called “Old Gods of Asgard.” They even adopted new first names to complete the image of Viking gods. After the band broke up, they lived on a farm nearby. They are, well, in advanced stages of dementia. They’re well cared for, TLC and all that. There’s nothing more that can be done. I’m afraid that the rock-and-roll lifestyle has left its mark.
Hartman: Oh, that won’t do. I’m so sorry to cut this short for now, Alan, the power has been acting up. I’d better go check on it. We’ll continue this soon. Meanwhile, when you feel up to it, return to your room and try to write. It really is for the best. Don’t you think?
Tor: I’d like to bash his head in with a hammer.
Odin: Ohh, he’d love to fish out our secrets, but he has no clue. He’s not crazy enough, not crazy like us, sonny.
Tor: Yeah!
Odin: Being crazy’s a requirement, sonny. Who else could understand the world when it’s like this? It takes crazy to know crazy.
Wake: That’s the sanest thing I’ve heard in a while. Uff!
Tor: Ha ha ha! Zane! You’re all right, Tom. Hey, we like him, don’t we bro? He’s gotta go to the farm.
Odin: The Anderson Farm! Valhalla!
Tor: We wrote it all down lest we’d forget. A crash course. All you need to know to get your head right. You need to find the message.
Odin: Here, sonny, here’s something for you. Gave me a rash. But I kept it safe from these bastards.
Wake (V.O.): My head was clearing up, or according to Hartman, I was sinking back into the fantasy. I was convinced he was lying to me, about everything. Crazy or not, the Andersons made more sense.
Tor: Tom, you got any booze on you?
Wake: Yeah, uh… no. Sorry, guys.
Odin: We have a stash of the special stuff at the farm. Our own formula. Local ingredients. Medicine. Clears your head right up… makes you remember, like… moonbeams, on the brain…
Tor: Ohh, I just noticed. Leather patches on the elbows? That’s not very rock and roll.
Odin: Tom’s just lost, is all. Baba Yaga got to him too, the damn witch!
Tor: She used us all, taken from all of us. Took my thunder, the witch.
Odin: And my ravens, what was… what were they? Memory and Thought! The hag.
Tor: She took something from you too, didn’t she? That’s what she does.
Odin: Oh, we’re better off. This place, the lake, it gives you power. If you’re a creator… An artist, a god!
Tor: “Nightmares shifted in their sleep in the darkness of the lake…”
Odin: Heh heh, yeah, that’s the one. She makes sure it comes out twisted and wrong. Just ask the Lamp Lady. She knows what happened to that other writer.
Tor: She’s been using you, boy. And you let her. You went and opened the door for her, didn’t you?
Odin: Now now, it was already open a crack. And whose fault is that? We’re morally corrupt, disease-ridden, old and stupid.
Tor: Doesn’t mean he had to open it all the way, goddammit!
Odin: Ahh, pfah. So tired… built the farm close to the lake. A place of power.
Tor: We had parties there, man… You—you should go there and have a party.
Odin: Fat Bob Balder threw the amp through the window. Hit that hippie chick in the back of the head. Fifteen stitches and a concussion. Bob’s dead now. Leukemia.
Tor: Stitches, snitches and narcs, man… bad scene.
Odin: I’m tired, man. So tired.
Tor: I… I, uh… I wanna go home.
Emerson: I’m a bad dream and you can’t wake up! You can’t hurt a nightmare, because all dreams are only imagination. They’re only in your head and they’re not there when you wake up, so you can’t wake up because I’m in charge now, and I don’t want to disappear. My nightmare is the publisher people who wanna make a contribution so they can say they made a contribution, and then we end up with mullets in there because they think mullets are funny! But it wasn’t supposed to be about mullets, and now it’s about mullets, and when it’s in slow motion they call it “mullet time” because the numbers came back from marketing that “mullet time” is the hook we needed to go big in the target demographic. And they’re not even kidding! They say it all like serial killers—with straight faces and smiles. My nightmare is the writers who want to make everything from the characters to the toasters talk talk talk all the time and express their feelings so they won’t shut up and the writers won’t shut up either because they have feelings too, and I have to listen to them because they’re not scared of me, and everyone should just shut up. Shut up. Shut up! But I don’t see nightmares anymore because I’m too scary for them. I take two pills every morning, and one with every meal, and four when I go to bed, and that makes me the scariest nightmare of all.
Rudolf: Oh, hello! I’ve painted you!
Wake: Okay.
Rudolf: I was just struck by inspiration a couple of days ago. Doctor Hartman wanted me to paint landscapes, and that’s what I was doing, but now I’ve been doing these things. A lot of them! The images just keep coming. Doctor Hartman likes them. He has them in his office.
Wake: Yeah?
Rudolf: He’s very proud of me. He says I’m getting much better. I think I’m getting better. Well, I guess I’d better start wrapping this up. The storm is almost here. Look at that! I’d hate to be out there tonight.
Birch: Hey, Wake, why don’t you humor Doctor Hartman and give the writing a shot? The typewriter’s in your room. You can get to your room by those stairs, Wake.
Wake (T.V.): Something’s wrong. I’m not myself. It’s hard to think. There’s a shadow inside my head. I can only focus on writing, everything else is a blur. I’ve been trapped in this cabin, have been for days, but it’s always dark outside. My editor is real. I saw her again. She’s not human. It’s not human. A dark presence is wearing the old woman’s face. She was covered in clinging shadows. There’s a hole in her chest where her heart should be. I think I’ve made a horrible mistake. I don’t think I’m any closer to saving Alice. It’s been lying to me, using me to get the story it wants. And the story will come true.
Wake (V.O.): Hartman wanted me to write. I knew I couldn’t, but I figured I should just play along for now. It was the only thing I could do with nurse Birch watching me like a hawk.
Wake (V.O.): The white glare of the blank page in front of me hurt my eyes. My hands began to shake uncontrollably.
Sinclair: Everybody calm down! Put that down!
Tor: Bright Falls… Rock-and-roll capital of America!
Sinclair: Birch, I need help!
Birch: Hey, Wake, you stay here. I’m gonna go see what’s up. You just keep doing what you’re doing. Be cool, okay?
Tor: “Warriors, torchbearers, come redeem our dreams! Shine a light upon this night of otherworldly fiends!”
Wake (V.O.): I didn’t know what the chaos was all about, but it could be my only chance of getting out of here.
Birch: Where the hell did he get a damn hammer?
Sinclair: I don’t know! Look, Tor, please put it down.
Tor: My hammer’s up! Here’s a friendly poke from Mjöllnir, wench!
Birch: Holy crap!
Odin: Ha ha! Oh, afraid of the crazy brothers, are ya? Not so weak now, are we? Well, things are unraveling fast, aren’t they? Ha ha ha!
Wake (V.O.): Sinclair looked bad. That wasn’t a love tap; the crazy old fart hit her hard. If she was one of Hartman’s goons, she had it coming.
Tor: It’s my storm! I’m taking it! The backstage is all yours, Tom! Seize your destiny!
Wake (V.O.): I could get the key to the office wing from Sinclair.
Tor: Come out and face the music, Birch! It’s time to pay the piper!
Odin: Maybe you could come out and beat our wrinkled adult-diapered asses for us, since you’re so tough, Birch?
Tor: We were on the road, man. You think we haven’t seen punks like you before? Mortal knave!
Odin: Yeah, you better hide, Birch! My wrath will break you!
Wake (V.O.): I had to get to Hartman’s office. He had taken all my manuscript pages. That’s where he’d be keeping them.
Wake (V.O.): The photo on the wall caught my attention. In it, the clinic staff was standing outside the lodge. I knew the man next to Hartman. He was the “kidnapper.” Hartman had been playing me all along.
Wake (V.O.): The markings on the tapes said they were recordings Hartman had made of his sessions with his patients. I saw Alice’s name on one of them. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe right.
Hartman: Now, Mrs. Wake, can you tell me about Alan’s problems?
Alice: He’s more and more out of control all the time. The parties, he’s so angry all the time, he’s getting violent, he’s—
Hartman: Do you mean with you?
Alice: No, not with me. No, never. I—sometimes I almost wish Alan would take a swing at me, because at least that’d lead to a conversation he couldn’t just march out of. But no. He just… Alan doesn’t really sleep, and the work… Well, he’s not writing, at all. He sits there for hours and just gets more and more frustrated. And I can’t talk to him.
Hartman: Yes, tell me, Mrs. Wake, what would you say to him if he’d listen?
Alice: Oh, I don’t know. I want to say, I look at you, and it’s not you, just some stranger who resembles you, looking out from behind your eyes, and I don’t like that guy much, and now it’s all gonna go to hell.
Hartman: But you don’t ever say this?
Alice: No, no. I’ve tried, but… he’s not listening. He’s too deep in his own problems, always going on about something else… I’m so afraid I’m going to lose him, and we’re not even talking anymore. He doesn’t let me in anymore, he just keeps me in the dark. I’m so alone here, even when he’s home. Please help me, doctor, because I’m at my wits’ end.
Hartman: Well, if you can just get him here, I’ll absolutely do my very best.
Alice: Yeah, but doctor, you need to be careful with him. He’s not just going to listen to you and cooperate. He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.
Hartman: Well, I’ll be sure to bear that in mind.
Wake (V.O.): Hearing her voice, what she was saying, made me happy, and sick, and guilty, all at once. Worst of all, I recognized the words. The phone call from her—it’d been a cut-up of this, just a recording.
Hartman: Rudolf Lane’s case is interesting. He was completely blocked, and frankly, I was about to discard him as useless. However, once Wake arrived and started writing, something changed in Rudolf! He’s producing extraordinary work, increasingly dark pieces. Unfortunately, he doesn’t respond to direction at all, and it’s my belief that he’s not so much a creator as an… illustrator, perhaps, a recorder of sorts. I hadn’t considered the existence of such a role before, let alone its implications, but the paintings he has produced are informative. At least he’s easily controlled and useful. I wish I could say the same about Wake. It’s frustrating that the best subjects are always so damned difficult to deal with.
Nightingale: —not buying that. I was tailing Wheeler, and this is the only place he could’ve gone. That means Wake is probably there too!
Hartman: Agent Nightingale, this is private property, and I will not allow you to disturb my patients.
Nightingale: Yeah? I can get a warrant. How would your fragile little patients like that?
Hartman: Ha ha ha ha! Oh, I’m thoroughly intimidated by your mighty authority now, agent.
Nightingale: Listen, you smug snob, how would you like it if I busted through this gate and knocked you around a little?
Hartman: Agent Nightingale, first of all, I’m recording this conversation, so you might want to watch what you say. Secondly, you’re not dealing with a hick now. I know the law, and if you can get a judge to grant a warrant, I’ll be glad to cooperate—but you won’t get one. Be advised that any further communications with me are to be made through my lawyer.
Nightingale: I don’t believe this…
Hartman: Good day, agent.
Nightingale: Yeah…
Barry: Let me out of here! Hartman, do you hear me? I’m gonna sue your crazy quack ass to shreds! Seriously, do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? I’m famous, I represent a celebrity. They’ll be looking for me! Oh, that’s how you wanna play it? Is that how you wanna play it? Really? Okay, that’s how we’ll play it. It’ll be hardball, all the way. Jerk. Seriously, man, I’m willing to forget the whole thing if you let me out now. Just let me out! Hey, do you think I can’t hear you out there? I hear you just fine! What, is this how you get your kicks, Hartman? I knew you were weird! You’ve got that weird guy look! If you’re one of those nurses, I’ll double what he’s paying you! Okay? Do you have any idea how much I make as an agent of a bestselling writer? A lot! Uh, is a personal check good?
Wake: Barry?
Barry: Al! About time.
Wake: Barry! Man, am I glad to see you. We need to get to Hartman’s office.
Barry: It’s right next door.
Wake: You okay?
Barry: Yeah, I mean, no! The cops found me at Rose’s trailer, but they didn’t hassle me too much. I’m obviously a victim in this, and I demanded to be treated as such, or else, I’d sue their asses. Speaking of asses, that Fed gave me a real hard time, but I had no clue where you were. That guy’s crazy, Al! But he let me go, and then I get a call from Hartman — that son of a bitch—who tells me you’re here and I should come pick you up, but when I got here, two goons clobbered me and stuck me in there.
Wake: What’s… what’s with the cutout?
Barry: I stole it from the diner to piss off Rose after what she did to us. That’ll teach her.
Wake: Yeah, that’s a harsh punishment. C’mon, pal, we gotta get going.
Wake: These are all the pages I had on me. And more!
Hartman: Alan, please. You’re sliding back into the—
Wake: Tell me one more lie and I’ll shoot you in the face.
Hartman: Ah, well. It was worth a shot. Really, Wake, come on. Let’s work together on this. You have no idea what—
Wake: Hartman, shut up. Barry, get out of here. I’ll catch up with you. Get a car.
Barry: Oh, Al, let’s just—
Wake: Go!
Hartman: Wake, listen to me. This is a mistake. Don’t you see? Together we can create something absolutely wonderful, with your ability and my—Wake! Aaaahhh!
Wake (V.O.): The Dark Presence would be on me in a moment. I had to find a way out. I needed light to get the possessed bookshelves out of my way.
Barry: Al! Al! I’m here! I found the car, but the gate’s locked! You’re going to have to go through the hedge maze, over there!
Wake: Barry, I don’t have a light!
Barry: Take this, Al! Oh God! Look at the house, Al! Look out! C’mon, Al, we gotta go! It’s not much of a maze! I made it through easy! Oh, geez, Al, the house looks bad! Let’s get out of here! Al, hurry up! I can hear those evil guys moving around! Al, be careful! I can see them moving around! They’re coming for you!
Birch: You can have the TV on if you don’t fight about the channels. If you can’t agree on the channel, we turn it off. We don’t want any fighting. It makes people sad. You get two pills in the morning and then you’ll be nice and calm all day long. You get three pills in the evening, and then you’ll sleep like a baby. Doctor Hartman likes things to be nice. That way we don’t have any trouble and I don’t have to punish anybody. Stop struggling! We’re all friends here. This is just part of the therapy.
Barry: Al! You’re alive!
Wake: Let’s get out of here. Can you open this gate?
Barry: Mmmaybe.
Wake: Barry.
Barry: Uh, well, I slammed it shut when the nasties showed up? And the key fits kinda loose in the lock, so, uh…
Wake: Barry!
Barry: I’ll find it! Don’t worry about it!
Wake: Hurry up, Barry!
Barry: I’m on it, I’m on it! It’s gotta be here! Just hang on, Al! Oh, hey! I found a quarter! I found it! I found it! No, wait, that’s a twig. Here it is! Al, I found the key! Al, we gotta go! Get in the car!
Barry: Al, please tell me we’re headed for the nearest “You’re now leaving Bright Falls, come back soon” sign.
Wake: We’re going to Anderson farm.
Barry: I knew you were going to say something like that! You know what, you owe me big time for this. When this is through, if we make it, I don’t care what anybody says, I’m done with darkness. You’re going to buy me a tanning bed as a gift, and I’m gonna live in it.